Iron and Copper
by Life Starts Now
Summary: Oneshot. Post "Hunger." Rated T for minor swearing and blood. Lana tries to heal a boy wounded in battle. She is confronted with her own personal demons as she fights to save his life. Minor angst. Lana X Quinn, if you use a microscope.


**Disclaimer: If I were Michael Grant, I would be writing the next book, not fanfiction.**

**Post "Hunger." Minor Quinn X Lana, but only if you use a microscope.**

Lana knew her day had just turned from haywire to full-out crazy when they brought the wounded boy in.

She recognized the boy, but that didn't mean anything. After four years in the FAYZ, she, the healer, knew pretty much everyone. The boy's name was Jamie, he would turn twelve this spring, and he would probably die from the coyote attack that had freed his intestines from his torso.

Lana's stomach clenched. After four years, she still hadn't gotten used to the iron-and-copper smell of freshly spilled blood.

She directed Cookie to lay the boy on the last empty hospital bed. Dahra briefly glanced at Jamie before leaving him to Jamie, bending back over a girl, Lily, who needed stitches. Lily's scream pierced Lana to the core as Dahra sewed up her arm; she was only seven years old. But Lana couldn't waste her strength on the wounded girl; Jamie was too gone to scream.

"Sorry, sorry," Quinn choked out. One of Dahra's helpers was wrapping his forehead with a white bandage; Quinn's blood stained the bandage red as it washed down his face. "A pack of maybe twenty attacked us by Ralph's. It was just me and Jamie and Gina and Matthew and Thomas guarding the food supplies. Gina and them just managed to hold them off while we made a break. I'm sorry. I drove as fast as I could. Will he be okay?"

Lana didn't want to lie to him. But "Very, very, slim," Would be a too-optimistic description of Jamie's chances. She didn't answer, bent over the wounded boy, taking in his injuries. Cuts covered his like clouds on a gray, harsh day; droplets of blood flowed over his skin like rain. Those would heal on their own; the worst was the gaping stomach wound.

"Why was he out there?" She almost snapped. "God, he's not even twelve. Why was he in the middle of the _war?_"

"Ralph's was supposed to be safe!" Quinn practically yelled. Hysteria shined in his eyes.

"Quinn, enough."

Lana hadn't even noticed Mary. The young woman jumped down the last few steps to the makeshift hospital, and placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Why don't you get cleaned up? You're covered in blood?" Her voice was pleasant, but she held her shoulders tensely, taut.

He nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry." He turned and left.

Mary watched Lana silently for a half a second. With her patient, just a little boy who should be in seventh grade bleeding to death below her hands . . . the half-second seemed to rip at Lana's soul. "Anything you need?"

Her hands should be enough. She shook her head. Then, "No. Wait. Water." It wasn't for Jamie. It was for her. _In case I throw up._

Mary left – finally – to fetch it for her, and Lana's gingerly placed her hands on Jamie's wound. His intestines spilled onto the table, glistening in the dim light. He breathed, but shallowly.

It had been a long time since she'd had a wound like this. The last time someone had been hurt that way, her healing power hadn't worked until she'd managed to shove the exteriorized parts back into the body . . .

She almost heaved.

If she procrastinated, Jamie would die.

Slowly, Lana started to push Jamie's intestines back into the wound. They were wet and warm and slipped under her fingers. It was gross and awful and Jamie chose just that moment to regain consciousness, letting out a ragged moan of pain with every push. Soon, blood soaked Lana's clothes, and the smell burned itself into her nose.

When all of Jamie was more or less where it should be, all Lana wanted to do was sit down and sleep. But Jamie still hadn't healed yet.

She clawed at his skin, managed to grip it together with her blood soaked hands, and called for the power.

_AHHH!_

Lana released him and stumbled back, reeling in shock. _No. God, no! _One of the Gaiaphage's cruel tricks had been played on her. It liked to infect coyotes with a sort of poison. When the coyote attacked a human – and the Darkness would always direct the infected Coyote toward the young, the weak – the human was infected. It made it nearly impossible for Lana to heal the human. When she tried, the human's pain – or, if she went to far, their wound – was inflicted upon Lana.

Lana had seen a dozen humans affected like this.

She hated the Gaiaphage. She hated it. It laughed at her, cruelly mocked her, punished her for rebelling. It wanted her to help it again.

_I will NEVER help you!_

Lana slammed her hands back onto Jamie's wound, a bit too harshly. She'd gotten around the infection before, for a set of broken ribs. She'd do it again.

She gritted her teeth and focused her power on the edge of Jamie's wound, and applied just the tiniest amount of healing. The pain hit her like a freaking bullet, it wasn't so bad that she had to stop.

_Come on. I have to do this!_

The Coyote Wars were the worst. First, there had been Mutants Versus Normals. God, that war had been horrible for Lana – trying to heal both sides. But those battles hadn't been so bad, because only few kids actually wanted to hurt each other over a stupid, prejudiced, jealousy and fear-fueled dispute. The Mutants and the Normals had warily rejoined sides, and a common enemy, (hunger) had made them work together.

Then the war against Caine had broken out. For such a long time, all they'd done was spy on and threaten each other. Then it had gotten really bloody, really fast. Lana had spent all day, every day in the makeshift hospital.

But at least that hadn't been so bad, because they'd found a common enemy too. The coyotes had attacked, and the war with Caine and the Coates academy was abolished. And now – now Caine and Sam fought side-by-side.

But they couldn't form a treaty with the coyotes. They couldn't find a common enemy. Because the coyotes worked for the Darkness, and the Darkness was pure evil.

The war with the coyotes wasn't sneaky. It wasn't suspenseful. It was just a lot of fighting.

She was vaguely aware of Mary bringing her the water, vaguely aware of patients, victims – hurt kids – entering and leaving the hospital. Her work – Jamie's life – consumed her, and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

She hit a particularly nasty spot. Jamie let out a hoarse cry; his eyes rolled back up in his heads and he lost consciousness. The only thing that kept Lana from passing out next to him was the knowledge that if she did, Jamie would have no hope at all.

Maybe half of the wound had already healed. The rest was completely tainted by the Gaiaphage. Sweat ran down her arms, soaked her clothes, filled her eyes.

Even after four years, the Darkness still had her in its grasp. And it was never letting her go.

_Come on, come on . . ._

It only took a few minutes work before she just couldn't do it any more. She slumped on the bed next to Jamie, sobbing and panting and coughing . . .

"You okay?"

_Sam. _Lana couldn't summon the energy to open her eyes.

"Yeah," She wiped away the pathetic tears. "What're you doing here?"

"Broke my arm, but I'll ask Dahra to take care of it."

She pulled herself into a standing position, readying herself to plunge back in. "Were you fighting?" Lana asked casually – as casually as she could with her voice croaking, hoarse voice.

"Yeah. Down at Ralph's. The coyotes were hell. There must've been fifty of 'em. But I took care of him." He examined her, then Jamie. "You think you can save him?"

"I have to."

He paused. Waited. Jamie sucked in a rasping breath. "I'll notify his older sister, just in case."

There was no just in case. Lana was going to save him.

"Is he poisoned?" Sam asked quietly.

Lana nodded.

Alarm filled Sam's eyes. "Lana, maybe you should-"

"I said I'd save him," Lana snapped. "Go get your arm looked after."

Sam shrugged, and then said, just as quietly. "Just do your best."

She wished he wasn't such a good guy.

She bent back over Jamie, letting her power flow into him. She held in her screams, her cries of pain – the last thing she wanted to do was scare everyone else.

She'd felt worse. Starving at the hands of the coyotes. The car accident the day the first day of the FAYZ. All the horrors she'd experienced since then. She'd lived through that. Jamie had to live through this.

She didn't know how much time paused. At least six hours. It could have been a day. She didn't know anything but the iron-and-copper smell and her own strained breathing. She ignored exhaustion. She ignored hunger. She ignored basic necessities. When the Darkness had had her, she'd been able to live without them. And she was stronger now.

Way stronger.

Someone pulled at her arm. Away from Jamie. She screamed and struggled, throwing her hands blindly in Jamie's direction. The person pulled her close, into a hug, and she recognized Quinn's strong arms.

"Lana, Lana, stop." He told her. "Stop it, Lana. You've already done enough good."

"I haven't done enough! His wound's not yet healed!" Lana snarled. She was strong. Stronger than the Gaiaphage. Strong enough to live through whatever happened to her. She wrenched herself out of Quinn's arms and placed her hands on Jamie's stomach wound. She hadn't made much progress in a while. She hadn't felt any pain from the wound, either. Jamie was probably almost better. But if she didn't heal him, he would die.

"Lana, stop it. Stop it!" Quinn pulled her away, and this time he didn't let her go.

"You stop it! Do you want him to die! Let me go! I have to save him!" Weak, pathetic tears pooled in her eyes. She blinked them away angrily.

"You can't save him, Lana. He's been dead since last night, but we couldn't get you to let go."

Lana leaned against him numbly. She couldn't even feel anything anymore. So the Darkness was stronger than her. Strong enough to kill an innocent boy, and laugh at her pathetic attempts to save him. Dimly, she realized Quinn was telling her, "Lana, Lana, it's okay. It's alright. Lana." But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Cookie brought a new patient in. Laid the patient on the bed. A girl named Ana, probably fourteen. Ignoring Quinn's, Dahra's, Sam's protests, she walked over to Ana. Placed her hands on the flesh above where the girl's ribs had punctured her lungs.

Ana had been infected with the poison as well.

Screw the Darkness.

Lana started to heal.

**Please review. If you review, tell me about any errors, be they typos or massive universe errors.**

**Thank you for reading!**


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